Chapter Six

**We interrupt this story to give you a short recap that is needed here, able readers, as our valiant heroes plunge headlong towards the story finale. No, TPTB never bothered to explain anything, but cause we're so much nicer than that, we've decided to remind you just what the heck is going on. Cause, well, we really have created a mess of things, haven't we?

First, we have Michael and Nikita still basking in the afterglow of very loud and raucous lovemaking, where we have discovered that after pledging eternal love and devotion, Nikita squeals like either a dying cat or a monkey. No one is actually quite sure which. Although it really doesn't matter, since as we all know, there isn't a right or wrong answer. Michael, our valiant hero who has finally declared his undying love to our pure and just heroine Nikita, has a previous unknown talent of being able to play a whole symphony through his nose, which whistles. They're the good guys.

We also have Davenport and the recently-presumed-dead-but-really-alive-cause-TPTB-said-so Andrea trying to either prove that they are the bestest, most able, most excellent and smartest operative, or have revenge because they were wronged in bed. It seems that during the course of their poisonous mission that the chloral hydrate was spilled -- although who was responsible is a matter of heated debate - and a substitute was hastily concocted from ingredients found in a Witchblade utility belt. But despite their differences, a strange attraction is forming between these two graduates of the last evil-looks-and-smiles-from-Section-operatives course that was run by Madeline and Operations, in part because they've discovered that being evil can be way more fun than being good, but also in part because Davenport looks really, really hot in a pink waitress uniform and platinum blonde wig with Cherry Red lipstick. Yum! They're slightly evil guys.

It has been discovered that Quinn is the daughter of George and Adrian, and that Greg Hillinger is George's previously unknown nephew. Greg has been spying on Section One, and not very well at that, and reporting the information back to George, who doesn't know that Madeline and Operations knows that he knows that they know that he is spying on them with hidden cameras. George has come up with a plan to have Quinn surgically altered to look like Nikita so that she can take over Section. And all three are now on their way to Section One. Quinn's not happy with this plan cause she wants to sleep her way to the top, the way all ambitious girls have done since time immemorial. Greg, meanwhile, is just an idiot. They are bad guys.

We have Walter, who has now been reunited with his one true love who also happens to be his wife Belinda, who was supposed to be in Abeyance and killed, but it turns out that Abeyance is really a holiday home in Tahiti, so she's back. With a really nice tan, too. Walter has also been helping our beloved heroes to fool those nasty Operations and Madeline, and keep their love affair secret -- well, not that it's really secret now, what with their passion-filled tryst being broadcast to the world over the internet. But anyway, Walter and Birkoff had arranged to temporarily dispose of said nasties so that the heroes could get some lovin'. However, this plan had backfired when it seemed that the ones left in charge were Henry and Elizabeth, aka the Torture Twins. Now, Walter just waits for Madeline and Operations to get their revenge, and lives in fear as to what that punishment may be, and ponders the many mysteries that TPTB have left for us. He's an old good guy.

Jerome, the psychic spawn-from-hell, has returned, along with Adrian, who has awakened and melted from her deep freeze like a Popsicle left out in the sun, and both are enjoying a nice snack of cold milk and cookies, along with Mick Schtoppel and his call-girl side kick Aurora. Mick, it seems, has been impersonating Mr Jones, the bigwig of Centre. This is in turn an acting role, as it appears that the real Mr Jones is the actual father of Nikita. And Nikita is in turn spying on Section One, and simultaneously spying on the mission to spy on Section One, a mission that she was sent on by Mick himself. So far in this story, his boss has not been revealed, but we can probably assume that it is indeed Mr Jones. But then again, can we ever assume anything about LFN? All these are nasty bad guys, or English gits, or call-girl sidekicks whose credit card fees are racking up really, really high by now.

Birkoff, it seems, has been stuck in front of his computer and is not getting any action at all -- poor dear. He�s a young good guy.

Which leaves us lastly and by no means leastly to the so-called resident bad guys of Section One, Madeline and Operations. And boy, are these two having fun! It seems that they have set up a live web-cam site to capitalise on their unquenchable desire for each other and have made a pretty penny indeed. Operations has bought the islands of the Philippines for his lover, and she in turn has agreed to spare a small amount of time from her plants to pay attention to him. But is her cold hard exterior really a front to hide the passionate woman within? How long can she keep resisting the siren call of passion when there's lots of money to be made? But we digress. It has also been revealed that Jerome is the biological child of Operations and Madeline after one of her eggs was harvested in secret, and unbeknownst to her. This dark dastardly duo is also determined to drive a wedge between our glorious heroes for no other reason than that they can! Oh, the humanity! Yeah, these two are the big nasties in this one.

Phew! Now that the stage is set and you�ve got the cast of characters straight again, on with the story....

************

Birkoff sat in Comm. in front of his computer munching on his Oreo and mint pattie chocolate sandwich when he heard the tramp, tramp, and tramp of approaching feet. Startled, he looked up and his mouth hung open in disbelief as he saw that George was approaching, along with his arch nemesis Greg Hillinger and the new girl Quinn. Or wait -- how could he know who Quinn was? Well, we know it's Quinn, anyway. They were completely unexpected and no warning by Oversight had been given. What could they want? And why were they together? And wasn't Hillinger cancelled? He really must complain to his agent that he wasn't getting the scripts early enough to keep up with all the changes that TPTB did! He also made a mental note to check and see if Walter got his scripts any earlier, cause he was pretty sure that Walter was sleeping with the second script assistant Sally.

But all those thoughts slipped rapidly from his mind as his archenemy leaned over his console and said mockingly, "Hello, Seymour", as he casually helped himself to one of Birkoff's precious Oreo cookies.

"Hello, Greg," Birkoff hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"We've come to introduce you to your replacement," answered George.

Replacement? Why was he being replaced? Oh, God, was he being punished for pulling that stunt with Walter where he helped incapacitate Madeline and Operations? He just knew he shouldn't have listened to Walter. And now, his archenemy Greg was going to take his place! What a disaster!

"I've already prepared my replacement," he said, gulping nervously. "It's an AI program that knows everything I do, just in case," he gulped again, "something happens to me. You don't need to bring in Greg. Really, you don't."

"Oh, Greg isn't your replacement," said George. "Quinn here is."

Birkoff turned to look at Quinn, who in turn looked down at him disdainfully.

"I remember you!" she said with disgust. "You followed me all around that Linux conference last month, shaking your hips and talking about how you were the love machine! Except I see you've dropped that idiotic accent. It wasn't fooling anyone, you know!"

"What Linux conference? What accent?"

"Oh, please!" she scoffed. "Don't play dumb, Birkoff. Or should I say Jason," she sneered. "That is the fake name you use when you're trying to pick up women, isn't it?"

Birkoff gulped once again. Oh, no! He'd been caught red-handed! He'd been sneaking out of Section for the past several months, living a double-life as his alter ego Jason -- an identity he'd created just for fun, to see if a 'new' personality would make it with the ladies. And had it ever! He�d scored, and scored again! Except for Quinn, who had somehow resisted his charms when he followed her around the conference. He couldn't understand why she didn't succumb like all the others, and her resistance drove him wild! He had to have her! Turning red with lust, he picked up an Oreo and crunched down on it to try to disguise his feelings.

Quinn, in turn, examined Birkoff as her heart began to go aflutter. She had done her best hard-to-get act at the conference -- hadn't he seen that she wanted him to be a bad boy and just take her? What more did she have to do?

"Well, we'll leave you two to get acquainted," said George, grabbing Greg by the arm and walking away.

************

George tromped down the hallways of Section One so quickly, so determinedly, that Greg could no longer keep up. Exhausted, he fell behind, wandering aimlessly. What good did it do, really, to be George's nephew after all? Quinn was going to get to take over -- but Greg, what was in it for him? Huh? Huh? Nothing, as far as he could tell. And if it hadn't have been for him, George wouldn't even know Quinn's identity! But was he grateful to his hard-working and brilliant nephew? No! Well, forget George. Greg could find someone else to suck up to. Especially since George had given Greg his password and Greg could now get access to anything! This time, though, he'd make sure that he didn't get fooled by any fake files. No one fooled Greg Hillinger!

His pace quickened a bit as he decided to find a computer somewhere and hack in with George's handy password. But then, turning around a corner, he was nearly bowled over by a fast-moving blonde Amazon.

"Hey!" he snapped. "Watch where you're going!"

"Stuff it, twerp!" the Amazon snapped back.

As Greg looked at the woman, he suddenly gaped in astonishment. "Nikita?" he said, recognizing her. "You're not supposed to be rude! Why, you're like the only person in Section One who's actually nice to me, although God only knows why since I've proven again and again how craven and despicable I am."

"I'm not Nikita," said the woman impatiently. "Now, get outta my way."

"Wait a minute!" cried Greg. "Of course you're Nikita. I'd know her anywhere!"

The woman sighed in exasperation. "No. I just look exactly like Nikita, thanks to painstaking -- and painful -- plastic surgery. My name is Abby."

"Abby? You mean the terrorist Abby who impersonated Nikita?"

"No, the terrorist Abby who impersonated Elvis," she answered snidely. "Of course I'm the terrorist Abby who impersonated Nikita! What other Abby is there who looks exactly like Nikita, you moron?"

"But Nikita cancelled you!" said Greg. "Or Madeline cancelled you. Or somebody cancelled you, anyway."

"No, Nikita couldn't do it, and Madeline thought better of it," she answered.

"Why? You're a terrorist? Aren't we supposed to cancel you guys?"

"Cancel a woman with my looks who can kill in cold blood?" she said with a laugh. "Don't be silly. They recruited me!"

Greg frowned a bit, as he remembered something he had read about Abby when he was hacking through Nikita's file to try to download naked pictures of her.

"Wait a sec, aren't you the Abby who slept with Seymour?"

She sighed again. "Yes. What about it?"

He fell to his knees in a grovelling position and grabbed her around the ankles.

"Oh please oh please oh please have sex with me!" he begged. "I'm so much better than Seymour at everything! Please let me prove it, please, pretty please!"

"Well, I don't know," she said sceptically, "Seymour set a pretty high standard...."

"I swear I'm better than him! In every way! Oh, you won't regret it! And if you do you can beat me up!"

She looked down at him and shook her head in pity. "Oh, all right. But this had better be good."

************

While all these unexpected pairings were happening back at Section One, a different kind of pairing was going on at the apartment of our glorious heroine. And as both Michael and Nikita lay basking in the afterglow of a wondrous lovemaking session, albeit a quite loud one, they were unaware of something that was lurking outside that was about to disturb their cuddling. Interrupt their post-coital hand dance that was once again starting the feelings of blissful ecstasy coursing throughout their bodies. And how could it not? Now that Michael had finally declared his undying love and devotion to his one true soul mate Nikita, the one who made his heart sing; who lit up his life; who gave him hope to carry on; who lit up his days and filled his nights with song. In fact, he could feel a song coming on that was almost perfect to describe the way he felt. And he was unable to control the crescendo that echoed throughout the room that emanated from his nose. And it seemed that his nose had employed a lead singer...

'Wild Thing! You make my heart sing!
You make everything... Groovy...
Wild Thing! You make my heart sing!

And as the song continued in the bedroom, our cameras pan to the hallway outside the apartment where something interesting was about to occur. It seems that there were at least 6 people milling outside, some carrying lights; one clutching a make-up kit; another holding a large camera upon his shoulder; another holding one of those clapper boards that you see in the movies -- or rather when a movie is being made. And another strange little man wearing khaki stubbies shorts and a matching short-sleeved shirt, and dirty great Doc Marten work boots that were covered in mud. He was standing in front of the camera and appeared to be waiting for something. Suddenly, the man with the clapper thingy shouted, "All right, quiet on the set", snapped the clapper thingy and looked at the camera as he said, "Crocodile Hunter, take 3!"

The strange little man in the khaki ensemble -- very drab I might add - looked straight into the camera lens and started talking in a soft whisper, "G'Day. I'm Steve Irwin, and today we have a real treat planned for ya. I'm on the trail here of the rare, extremely elusive and vicious Howling Monkey. And we have been told on good authority that this sweet, nasty, vicious little bugger, who is usually found in the deepest darkest corners of suburbia, is holed up in the room behind me. This little mongrel, usually ranging in colour from a really pretty black to a nice shade of white, can only usually be located through its distinct and piercing mating cry. It sorta sounds like a mixture of a ruptured cat and a squawking monkey. Geez, I hope he wants to be friends, cause I just hate to disturb the little nipper. But if we're really quiet, I'm sure that we can sneak up on it and not disturb it too much, by crikey! So shhh, let's be quiet and follow me and you'll be absolutely fly-struck at this truly rare and elusive animal."

And with that, the whole of Steve Irwin -- The Crocodile Hunter's entourage slowly and silently made their way unobtrusively into Nikita's apartment. Where our illustrious duo, completely turned on once again by the sensuousness of their hand-dance thingy, were about to make love again.

************

George stopped just outside the Perch and turned around, only to find himself unexpectedly alone. And that was the reason why Greg would never seriously replace Birkoff in the day-to-day running of Section's computers. Nephew or no nephew, if he couldn't keep up with the simplest of quick walks, then what good was he really? He couldn't even be counted on to spy on the correct files! But still, he had managed to correctly uncover the truth about Quinn's parentage. But hang on; didn't he even stuff that up because he said it was Nikita that was his daughter? Or was it himself that had that Intel confused? Oh, it just was too complicated to think about for too long as it was giving him a headache. Besides, it didn't really matter in the end, because he would win. Him. George. Would win. Oh sure, so those Siamese twins Paul and Madeline thought that he thought that they thought that he thought that they thought that they would win. But they were wrong. Because he had a secret plan to take over the world. And it was so secret that even Red Cell was unaware of it. Not that they would know or anything. It wasn't like he was spying for them or anything. Perish the thought! And he'd cancel anyone that said different. Not that they would. Cause how would they know? Err, umm, no, I mean, well, you know what I mean. But George was suddenly distracted from his wayward thoughts by a familiar sounding voice coming from the Perch.

It sounded like...but it couldn't be...because she was dead...or was she...but he would have known... or would he... no, Michael would have told him...he was sure he would...or what if Michael was a clone.... No it couldn't be...but if it was...oh joy, oh rapture! He entered the Perch and stood dumbstruck in open-mouthed amazement at the sight that was before him. And his heart started to go pitter-patter. And he suddenly found that his mouth was dry, and the tears were just forming a little bit at the corners.

For there, seated before him with her arms around that creepy little C-Clone Jerome as he rested in her lap, was his beloved Adrian. And no...it couldn't be true...was that a storybook that she was reading to him from? It was! It was the Section-One issued, all-illustrated version of tales in the real world. The version that contained the dedication to Perry Bauer, and the acknowledgements done by David Fanning. My god, that volume was the most popular bedtime story book in ages! And she was reading it to Jerome with what looked to be a plate of half-eaten Oreo cookies and an empty glass that was milk stained in front of her. And Jerome himself was sleepily rubbing his eyes and had what appeared to be a milk moustache around his top lip. It made him look as sweet as one of those poster children for those 'Got Milk?' ads. Just what was wrong with this picture?

But it was definitely her, his Adrian. The woman who had started him upon the road to World Domination and total Oversight power! The woman who had taught him to be a man. To be the gentle, caring, powerful lover that he was! The woman who had borne his child, albeit not the one he thought it was. The woman who had made his life complete all those years ago. The woman who still caused him to wake at nights when he was alone in his big, dark Oversight bed, crying out in anguish because he missed her. And still, despite being pretty old himself -- although not as old as Walter or Adrian herself -- made him horny. Oh, the love of his life had returned! And he was filled with such joy, such bliss, that all he could do was crumple to the floor and crawl on his knees, hands outstretched, tears coursing down his ruddy, blood-shot cheeks, towards her crying piteously, "A-a-a-Adrian?"

Adrian looked up to see George moving towards her, quite quickly actually considering he was on his knees. But it seemed that in his younger operative days, George had been the World Champion Knee-Crawling-Arse-Kissing-Sycophant-of-the-Year 5 years in a row. A record that had yet to be broken by anyone in any Section anywhere. Startled, she stood hurriedly, knocking Jerome out of her lap straight onto his butt on the floor. And by the look in his really strangely evil death-ray eyes that flashed different colours, he was not happy! Adrian watched in stunned amazement as George made his way towards her, and when he reached her he threw his sobbing self against her legs, pushing his face into her crotch as he struggled to remain coherent.

She was unable to stop her own heart from fluttering delicately in her chest at the feelings that George aroused in her. But it could also have had something to do with the fact that after being cryogenically frozen for all these years, her internal organs were taking just a bit longer than her exterior to function normally. Or it could also have been that she too, had missed George. They had made quite a team as both lovers and Operations and second in charge until that awful Paul and Madeline had overthrown them. And she did so love the way that he would watch those so-called porn movies and then duplicate the moves that he saw. Just for Valentine operative training you understand. Not for any other reason. Anyway, Adrian found that she was strangely drawn to George once again. She had to have him, and it had to be now!

Reaching down, she patted George's head and ran her fingers through his hair, deliberately ignoring the fact that it was considerably thinner than she was used to, and that, with every stroke, fine strands of hair seemed to come away from his scalp to flutter gently to the ground. She could no longer control her passion for the man rubbing his face in her crotch and she fell to her knees in front of him and drew him closer for a passionate, tongue-filled embrace, mindless of the audience that was still in the Perch.

Aghast at the sight before him, Mick hurriedly arose from the seat he was sitting on, a shocked expression on his face as he screamed, "Blimey Charlie! Could you warn a person before you start doing that...Oh my god! Ewwwww!!!!!" And grabbing Aurora he hastily made his exit from the Perch and the sight of the two old operatives sucking face in front of him. All the while screaming as he made his exit "My eyes! My eyes! I've been blinded by the horrors that I have seen!" While Jerome just smiled that evil little smug smile that truly evil demon-children get as he silently made his exit as well.

************

Section One had always been a cold, stark place, where kindnesses were few and affection frowned upon. Where even the simplest of pleasures were prohibited, and where friendships -- and love -- inevitably turned to betrayal. The Section sucked the humanity out of everyone, rendering them into soulless cogs of its dreadful machinery. But something strange was now happening to its denizens -- the good ones, the not-so-good ones, the slightly evil ones, and even the really, really nasty evil ones. Something...inexplicable.... Something...overpowering.... Something...eerily eerie... Something...spookily scary.... Something...awesomely awesome.... Something...saucily sexy.... Something...well, just bloody strange!

************

"Ooooh, delicieux!" cried Andrea, as Davenport squeezed the contents of a bottle of chocolate syrup across her bare chest and proceeded to lick it off sloooooooowly.

She reached for the platinum blonde wig that he still had on -- even though he now wore nothing else -- and ripped it off, flinging it across the kitchen of the restaurant to land in the corner along with his crumpled hot pink waitress uniform. Giggling, she then began to spray whipped cream on his bald head, smearing and swirling it with her fingers.

He grinned evilly -- and boy, was he really getting good at evil grins! -- and reached for the menu that lay on the floor next to them. "Hmmmm," he said, "now that we've finished the chocolate sundae, what's next on the menu?"

Andrea snatched the menu away from him. "I'm zee customer, remember?" she tittered. "Ooooh, I want to try zee oysters on zee aff shell!"

Davenport chuckled in anticipation, licking his way down her stomach. "I think I have a taste for that myself," he said with a wicked look in his eyes.

"Oh, Mon Dieu!" she gasped as his busy tongue began to do its work. "I should eat out more often!"

************

"So," said Birkoff, looking away from Quinn in discomfort, "this is the server room. It used to be that only I was authorized to come in here, but I guess since you're being transferred we'll have to get you clearance as well."

"Hmmm," said Quinn, looking Birkoff up and down and licking her lips lasciviously. "It's awfully hot in here!"

"Well, sure," replied Birkoff. "Think how many computers we have running in here."

Quinn shook her head in exasperation. He was bound and determined to ignore every hint she gave him! That was it. She would have to take matters into her own hands.

"That's not the kind of hot I meant, big boy," she said, pulling off her shirt as he gaped in open-mouthed (and is there any other kind?) astonishment.

Before he could even react, she seized him and pulled him toward her. "Defrag me, Seymour," she begged in a sultry whisper.

As he got into the spirit of things, his hands began to roam across her exposed skin. "Yeah," he whispered back, unconsciously slipping into his Jason accent, "I think you've got corrupted sectors that only I can fix."

************

Abby frowned and filed her nails, trying to ignore the pants and gasps from Greg as he squirmed above her.

"Say it! Say it!" he cried.

"Hmmm?" she asked, only halfway paying attention.

"Say it!" he gasped again.

"Oh, yeah," she said in a bored tone of voice. "Oh, yeah, you're so much better than Seymour. You're the king. Ooh, baby."

She then returned to filing her nails. Boy, she sure would rather be blowing something up right now than wasting her time with this novice. Oh, well. It couldn't last more than about a minute by the looks of things. She probably wouldn't even get her hair mussed.

Greg smiled to himself in smug satisfaction. I knew I was better than him!, he thought. I'm better than Seymour at everything!

************

Elizabeth sighed and polished the gleaming metal surface of the White Room chair once again. She had truly enjoyed her brief taste of power when she and Henry commanded Section One -- and returning to the same old same old was just�not the same! Oh, not that she minded performing unspeakable acts of physical violence on people - it certainly had its droll moments -- but now she realised how much more there was to life!

She glanced over at Henry, who was on his knees, bent over, busy waxing the floor after cleaning up every drop of blood from their last guest. They took such pride in the spotless appearance of their workplace, after all. My! She hadn't ever noticed what a nice, firm butt he had before. It looked so delectable! How could she have not noticed, after fifteen years of working side by side with the man?

Suddenly, an idea possessed her, an idea so insane, so frivolous, so unprofessional, so...bad! She flung herself into the chair and strapped herself in with a noisy clang. When Henry looked up in surprise, she cracked a tiny smile that faintly raised the corners of her lips.

"Break me," she commanded in her flat voice, "by any means necessary."

************

Meanwhile, back in munitions, Walter and Belinda were lost in a reunion of their own. And as they stood leaning against the back wall of the secret area in the munitions section and kissed and cooed like long-separated, recently-reunited, returned-from-the-dead lovers do, those lovely little cartoon-like animals appeared from the wall again. You know the ones. Bambi and ducks and geese and lambs and Thumper and skunks and deer were all in a flurry again. And the surrey with the fringe on top was back. They all just stopped and stared and nudged each other and smiled and all just seemed as one to utter a collective sigh at the love they saw in front of them. And it seemed that this time there was no click-clack of CFM pumps approaching to disturb them from their voyeuristic reveries.

************

Nikita was surprised as a startled Michael suddenly stopped mid-thrust to cock his head and listen. "Michael, what's wrong?" she huskily enquired. Michael brought his eyes back to gaze at Nikita. His love, his one his only, the light of his life; who gave him strength to carry on...god, you know the rest!

Anyway, he looked back at Nikita and said, "Nothing, my love. I just thought that I heard a noise..." and as his voice trailed off, the sounds of whispered talking could be heard in the next room. He gently disentangled himself from her lustful embrace and putting his finger to his lips whispered "Shhh..." as he silently and stealthily made his way towards the voices. He stopped, frozen to the spot, as he recognised another Australian accent, this time a male's, and could make out the words. He listened with growing horror to what was being said as he heard....

"Shhh, jeez. I hope that the little bugger is friendly, as the last thing that I wanna do is disturb him too much and make him angry. Legend has it that he has a nasty, venomous bite and I don't like to tell you just how much I don't wanna get bitten again this week. I'm still recovering from that little love bite that the tiger snake gave me on the last show. It was quite lucky for me that the crew here had a gun and some bandages handy and Percy over there was more than happy to suck the venom outta my arse!" Just then, Steve Irwin jumped back as Michael rounded the corner in all his naked glory and delivered a perfect chop to the first cameraman's neck that felled him in one blow.

Jumping quickly to the left in another brilliantly choreographed move that was worthy of a highly skilled Section operative such as himself, he then proceeded to dispose of another two people -- the guy with the clapper thingy and the guy with the lights. He turned and stopped as the guy with the make-up pursed his lips and admiringly looked Michael up and down. His chiselled jaw, his rippling pectoral muscles, his washboard flat stomach that was, well, taut. His muscular thighs that tapered into firm calves that supported legs that were connected to a really tight butt. As the make-up guy -- Percy -- sighed his admiration, Michael executed a series of really fast hand movements that dazzled him and enabled Michael to tap him hard on the back of the head. Four down, two to go!

It seems that Steve Irwin still thought he was on camera and had continued with his rambling narrative "Crikey -- he's a big bugger! And not too friendly. Pity. So watch me now, as I have to wrestle him back into hibernation. This could get real ugly folks, as these rare Howling Monkeys don't take too lightly at being discovered!" and with that he launched himself at Michael in what would have to be the most stupid move of the story. Michael disdainfully flicked the back of his hand across Irwin's stupid thick Aussie skull and he went crashing to the floor in a dead faint. The final guy, seeing the mayhem that a highly skilled operative of Michael's calibre had delivered, promptly threw himself against the wall quite hard and slumped to the floor unconscious. Or maybe he had just read the script and knew that he couldn't win.

Hearing the commotion in her living room, Nikita came into the room wearing the bed sheet as a toga in a vain attempt to preserve her modesty. Which was pretty funny, cause most of the audience had already seen most of what she had to offer in that scene in the first episode of the second season! But wear it she did. And so she stopped in front of Michael and gently stroked his face and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he answered as he viewed the people collapsed on the floor around him. Noticing something strange, he moved towards one of the men and touched his face, and then looked startled when he was able to peel away his face.

Moving quickly from one man to the other, he peeled away all their faces to reveal that the whole crew were wearing masks. And before him in various states of death were Errol Sparks, David Fanning, Perry Bauer, Gregor Kessler and Alec Chandler. And it seemed that Egram Petrosian himself had impersonated Steve Irwin. Nikita stood in stunned silence as Michael picked up the phone and uttered the word "Housekeeping." And then he hung up. Turning towards her, he gently took her hand and guided her back to the bedroom. Now that that diversion was taken care of, they had some unfinished hand dancing to finish!

************

Walking hurriedly through Section's long, seemingly unending corridors, Mick was still muttering darkly about the awful things that his eyes had been subjected to. He couldn't seem to get the awful sight of Adrian and George locked in a lust-filled icky embrace out of his mind and every time he closed his eyes the vision was revisited. So he really was walking aimlessly with a less than enthusiastic Aurora dragging behind, and she was getting bored with all his mutterings. She wanted some action! And the sight before her of a bald-headed English git resplendent in a lime green silk shirt with matching red trim and silver spandex skin-tight pants was becoming, strangely, more and more attractive with every passing moment. She was at a loss to explain this attraction, cause he really wasn't her usual type -- well, he was cause he had a Section One/Oversight issued Platinum Gold credit card with unlimited credit after all and those guys were always her type! No, this attraction seemed to go even deeper. And so she continued to follow Mick, not really listening to his ravings.

"Agent. Must get a new bloody agent! There was nothing in last week's script to warn me.... well, it just won�t do, will it? I am an ACTOR after all, despite what that old lady said.... I demand respect...this is not an easy gig...bloody stupid...!" He was stopped mid-ramble as Aurora suddenly tugged on his hand and he found them entering an office that appeared to have a strange pattern of bullet holes on the wall. They had unwittingly entered Michael's empty office. Mick was perplexed as to why they were there until he looked at Aurora and his frown turned upside down and became a smile!

Aurora was walking towards him, undoing the buttons of her button pants as she said "Now Micky-poo let l'il ole me take real good care of you, big boy." And then he wasn't able to say anything cause she threw herself upon him and planted her lips on his.

************

Madeline paced her office with purposeful filled steps to try and relieve her frustration. It seems that despite all her best efforts there just wasn't a SOTW available for her son Jerome to torture and play with! Mission frequencies would have to be increased marginally to rectify that anomaly almost immediately. It just wouldn't do for the real Jones to find out that there were no bad guys being tortured in Section that week. Why, the leadership skills of Operations and herself might be called into question and there could be a review. And that wouldn't do at the moment, not with a defrosted Adrian on site.

But what was wrong with the picture of Madeline pacing back and forth in her office, was that she was the one pacing and Operations was standing in the one spot, with his hands behind his back, just staring at her plants. It was a completely different scenario to the usual one and showed just how screwed up things were at the moment. But Madeline couldn't stop her pacing, because she felt strange. She was slightly warm and sorta restless and was all jittery inside and felt really funny in her stomach whenever her eyes happened to glance Operations' way. And it seemed that her eyes were glancing his way more and more. She couldn't help it. He was so strong and handsome and sexy...well, she was only flesh and blood after all! Some had thought different over the years, but not him. Never him. He knew better. Only he knew the real her, the Madeline she kept well hidden from the world. Oh sure, she was a murderous, cold-hearted bitch who loved nothing better than to torture an unsuspecting victim and mess with Nikita's brain. But that was who she was. But he knew that underneath her exterior there was the fire within. And all it needed was a match to ignite it. She was suddenly startled out of her reverie by Paul's voice.

"Madeline! Is that...why, it looks like...well, it is...why, I can't believe it...but I should have known...but it looks like...yes, it is!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "You have dressed all your plants in different themes. There's one in a dinner suit. And another here in a tutu. And two together as a bride and groom. Oh, but I think I like this one here in a trench coat and dark glasses. Looks like a spy tree. Fascinating, simply fascinating. But then I always said that you paid more attention to these damn plants than you do to...well...." He stopped there and spun around to find Madeline standing and staring at him in horrified wonder. She looked just a little paler than usual, with a slightly glassy stare. But she looked so lovely tonight. Dammit, why did he want her so! But still, they were making a pretty penny on the Internet with their little venture, so it wasn't all bad.

Madeline slowly moved towards Paul as if in a dream. She could no longer deny her overwhelming passion for the man standing before her. She had to have him, and she had to have him now! Which unbeknownst to her, there was a lot of that kind of sentiment going around lately. But even if she did know, she wouldn't care. All she could see was the man before her -- albeit a fine figure of a slightly older man that he was. So she moved towards him and spoke in her bestest huskiest voice, "Paul...I feel like I'm living in twilight. I can't exist like this any longer. It's got to be either night or day. Ohhhh Paauulll.......I want you. Take me big boy! Take me now!" But she was pulled up short by the sight of Paul standing there with his hand raised and a closed look upon his face.

"Madeline, I don't take well to ultimatums. Let's not open things up again. We're both much too busy. And before you go on any further, the other night was not opening things up again. I slept with you, there's a difference. And I know, that sounds unusually cold, even for me." And he stood there and watched her as she just stood there in open-mouthed shock. Her mouth was sorta opening and closing and a few little squeaks were coming out as the full meaning of his words hit her. It was too late, he no longer wanted her!

Just then, Paul doubled over in laughter, slapping his hand upon his thigh as he said, "Ohhhhh boy, I really had you going there for a moment, eh? You should have seen your face! Oh, Madeline, it was a classic. Talk about getting my own back after all these years of begging! Oh man, that was a funny moment. Ah, Madeline, what are you doing? Now, now, it was just a little joke. You know what jokes are, don't you? Now come on, there's no need to look like that. Now, Madeline, put those pruning shears down. No, please, I really didn't mean it. I swear. Look, I didn't let it go on for too long, now did I?" And he stood trembling as she advanced before him, pruning shears at the ready to do some serious damage. Nobody laughs at her. Nobody!

But just before she was about to deliver the mutilating blow with the shears, that strange feeling overcame her again at the sight and nearness and smell of him. Oh god, what was she thinking? If she actually followed through with her blow, he would never be able to satisfy her wild carnal desires. She would have to find other playmates for that. And she didn't want that at all. Because underneath it all she really did want him. And besides, there was always that special thrill of sleeping with the boss. Which was what women in the workplace craved everywhere. So instead of doing him damage, Madeline dropped the shears upon the floor and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. She pulled him forcefully towards her and pressed her lips to his, thrusting her tongue into his mouth.

Moving him backwards as her embrace became more and more passion-filled and urgent, she continued until he could no longer go any further and her desk was at their backs. Manoeuvring slightly, she pushed him onto the top of her desk and straddled him, all the while keeping her lips on his. And as Paul returned her ardour, just before they were both swept away by their passion, she had the forethought to reach up and switch on the web-cam feed. No good wasting an opportunity to make a bit more money after all.

************

And so, while all of our LFN cast, along with a range of unexpected special guests, were occupied, a small strange little eerie figure was just standing in Comm. With a spookily scary, evil-filled, eyes-flashing look upon his face. It was Jerome. And he stood there with a secret little evil smile upon his face, the one that demon-children seem to get and, now that we know who his parents are, looked a little bit like one of Madeline's secret little smiles, with his head cocked slightly to the left as if listening to something only a truly scary psychic demon-child could hear. And as he continued to smile, he mentally reached out and dialled the phone and then put it on speaker.

"Hello, Jones. It's me. Our plan has worked. I can sense that everyone that you suggested is now otherwise engaged. And I think that you will be happy with the results. I agree. This ending is much better than the one that TPTB had planned. At least this way those fanatical TR's and HR's will be satisfied. I've arranged it so that everyone gets the ending that they want. I will talk to you later." And then he hung up.

He continued to smile at himself as the camera panned backwards to capture his stance and overlapping the top of him just standing there, a montage of what the couples were doing at the moment flashed across him. Michael and Nikita. Davenport and Andrea. Henry and Elizabeth. Walter and Belinda. Mick and Aurora. Greg and Abby. George and Adrian. Birkoff and Quinn. Paul and Madeline. And as the camera continued to pull back the screen fades to black and the music swells as the end credits roll.

The End!